


Remarkable, how you carry on

by AssumeEveryoneWithASwordIsQueer



Series: Just wild knights defying the world [3]
Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Past Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssumeEveryoneWithASwordIsQueer/pseuds/AssumeEveryoneWithASwordIsQueer
Summary: In retrospect, Gawain should've expected to see something weird wandering the halls so late.
Relationships: Gawain & Lancelot du Lac (Arthurian)
Series: Just wild knights defying the world [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2009782
Kudos: 8





	Remarkable, how you carry on

**Author's Note:**

> The product of my inability to be nice to lancelot  
> CW for mention of rape and panic attacks

Gawain knew it was late, well early, but none the less he was awake when no same man had business being. It was summer and quite warm, at that. It felt good to wander the cold stone halls. Besides, it wasn't like he could sleep.

Gawain was usually up very late when he felt the need to walk around the halls at ungodly hours, so why was there a person crumpled on the floor?

He proceeded carefully, though he doubted they were armed. In the dim torchlight, he began to see red/brown hair, a familiar pale face streaked with tears, and

"Lancelot?" he asked in shock. The king's champion did not respond beyond flinching away. Gawain had seen it happen before. Someone was set off by the simplest thing, and they were soon overcome by panic.

Casting his usual demeanor aside, he crouched down beside Lancelot and waited for a response. He got one in the form of a fleeting glance and a motion like that of one swinging an axe, the sign for his name.

"Yeah, good, you recognize me. Can you tell me where you are?" He asked, having learned from his own experiences not to push. He hadn't expected Lancelot to speak, as Galehaut's death had put a stint in his getting closer to speech 

Even years later, it was still a rarity, saved for those he could trust.

"Hallway. Castle. Home" he spoke between heaving breaths and sobs. As always, the knights words were few and far between. He'd only ever spoke to the oldest of the Orkney brothers in short choppy sentences.

Gawain couldn't blame anyone for not wanting to be around him for too long.

"It appears so. May I sit beside you?" He asked, sliding over to sit as close as he could get without touching when he jerked out a nod.

"Thanks, crouching like that really does one on your knees, let me tell you. Pray tell, what happened?" He asked, knowing how impossible a simple request could feel when he was like that. Thankfully, he hadn't had to deal with his own episodes in quite some time. 

"I-I was wandering and thinking about Galahad's birthday... and then I thought it her mother." He spoke, and seemed to be shuddering as if he were a leaf in a strong autumn wind.

"Ah, stuck it in crazy, huh?" Gawain asked jokingly. Lancelot doubled over on himself and his cries worsened. 'Not the time for my humor' Gawain thought to himself.

"I'll take that as a yes. Look, I was joking, I swear, I guess it was a low blow. Is touch okay?" He asked next, and was pleasantly surprised by the nod despite the response his filterless mouth received him.

"Alright, I'm going to put my arm around your shoulders. All it takes is a no, okay? Touching you now" he warned as his arm snaked around the champion and gently led him to lean against his side.

Lancelot flinched and his breath hitched, but he didn't pull away. Gawain didn't try to actually hold him, worried about how he might react to the feeling of being restrained. He didn't think he really understood as the champion had turned into a crying mess of,

"Didn't want to... I said no...no..no"

Gawain had no idea what it was about or who, but some of the things spewing from his mouth that actually made sense were painting a very clear picture, and Gawain didn't like it.

As if his parents' messed up power dynamic wasn't enough reminder of how messed up and dangerous toxic, horny women were.

"Try to mimic my breathing I'm worried you might pass out" he said, that in of itself would not be out of place, but that didn't mean he should resist attempting to help.

Gawain began to take deep, exaggerated breaths, though it was a little difficult with the weight of his friend's head on his chest. He tried to gather him closer, but whenever he did more than gently rub the night's back, Lancelot would knock his hands away. He wouldn't even let Gawain hug him.

Little by little... oh who was he kidding, it took way longer than that, Lancelot could breathe well enough. He was still crying and jumping at every movement Gawain made, but had seemed content enough to rest against his shoulder tracing mindless patterns on his frayed tunic and performing the pattern he'd been taught.

Breathe in for 4 seconds, hold for 7. Breathe out for 8 seconds.

"Sorry" he mumbled, exhausted. Gawain bit his tongue before any remarks came out, lest they end up where they were when Gawain first found him. 

"There's nothing to be sorry about, my friend. Are you tired?" He asked, feeling Lancelot starting to slip a bit. The champion nodded, though resisted Gawain's attempts at helping him up.

"Wait. Feel sick." He said, the arm not pinned between their bodies waving a finger infront of his own face. Gawain was all too familiar with what those anxious fits could do. He hated to imagine what it felt like to be like that all day.

He had no clue what the sign was, he'd never been the brightest sword in the armory, but with his own dealings and the way Lancelot was swaying he assumed it meant something like 'dizzy'. No wonder, either, Lancelot wore himself out on the training field and hardly ever touched his food at banquets.

"That's okay. It's better than falling and cracking your head open on the ground. I'll stay with you" he offered, though he doubted there could be much shut eye after that. For the first time, that offer was genuine and not an attempt at getting in someone's pants.

"You have places to be" he spoke, slurred and nearly f as lling over. Gawain held his shoulders and pulled him down til he was able to lay his head on his thigh. Surprisingly, he made no attempt at moving 

"Not until the sun comes up" he said jokingly, and as the last of his tears left, Lancelot smirked as well. He laid a hand on his head and waited for a reaction. All Lancelot did was twitch and relax again.

"Seriously, I don't mind. It's not like I was getting to sleep after that fight with my brothers anyway." He said, which seemed to convince Lancelot to stay. The pair could've moved to the bedroom down the hall, but Gawain wasn't sure Lancelot was going to move.

"I mean it, rest. You look as though you ran out of energy a week ago." He spoke, now braiding and then unbraiding his hair, something that seemed to have a calming effect on him. 

Lancelot did as was asked of him the first time for once. Many hours later, with his hands still playing with his friend's hair and more of Lsncelot on him than beside him, his leg fell asleep.

Gawain looked down at Lancelot at peace for once, leaned against the wall and decided he didn't give a shit.

**Author's Note:**

> I regret nothing.


End file.
